is a dim light upon a little wooden stand 
in the corner of the scantily furnished: bed 
room, ijer face is very pale and thin, her 
eyes are red with weeping, for on the 
rough pine table, its little form composed 
for its last resting place, and a sweet smile 
resting on the little white face, lies her 
only child. Kind hands have assisted her, 
and kindly hearts have sympathized, but 
new she is left alone. For awhile she sits 
thus, the picture of despair, then she goes 
to the table, and sadly gazes on the little 
waxen face, she kisses the silent lips, 
presses the little cold hands in hers, and 
murmurs: “Early lost—early saved, my 
sinless, ray sainted, my beautiful dead. 
No more sorrow, no more pain for thee. 
Safe in a world of light and peace. Sleep 
©n my boy, I would not call thee back. 
Thine the joy—the bliss, the blessedness of 
Heaven; thy mother’s the anguish the 
desolation, the darkness of earth. Thank. 
God! thy poor heart will never know the 
agony with which mine is bursting. And 
yet it is so hard to give thee up, my only 
comfort. Thy loving earesses, thy fond 
kisses, this poor heart will starve without 
them. Yet I can endure, thou art safe— 
safe—safe.” 
Then slowly turning from the table she 
walks sadly to and fro across the floor, then 
goes to the window and looks out into the 
darkness, turns and walks again, saying 
sadly, “Oh, why does he not come? What 
can detain him so long? Oh, my poor 
husband—my once noble Fred; how this 
poor, bleeding, breaking heart still clings 
to thee, still loves thee, though despised 
and forsaken by all. Art thou fallen so 
low? Is there no hope, no redemption for 
thee?’ Dropping on her knees, and clasp¬ 
ing her thin hands , and raising her stream¬ 
ing eyes to Heaven, she implores, “Oh, 
m^ Jtn Father! Thou hast heard the 
prayer of the desolate; Thou hast power to 
restore the lost. Save, oh save my erring, 
deluded husband from a drunkard’s grave 
—a drunkards eternal doom.” 
Hearing footsteps, she rises hurriedly, 
as the door opens, and three men enter, 
bearing her husband, in a state of uncon¬ 
sciousness. Her burdened heart can bear 
no more, and with a moaning cry she sinks 
to the floor behind him. 
{To be continued.) 
Let in tlie Sunshine. 
BY Mils. M. J. SMITH. 
Open your blinds. Let sunshine 
Brighten each dark recess; 
Open your gloomy parlors, 
Live in the shadows less. 
Mildew and blight most deadly. 
Every dark closet bears; 
Germs of disease lie ui.cler 
Carpets and costly chairs. 
Open your blinds; nor worry, 
If sunbeams come trooping in, 
fading your showy carpet. 
Roses your cheeks will win,. 
Out with upholsterings rare,. 
Out with expensive gear; 
If they mint hide in gloom, 
All of the gladsome year. 
Tapestries rare I value, 
Beautiful things I love; 
But to discern their beauty. 
Give me the light from above. 
Fabrics; with buds interwoven. 
And roses may fade in the light, 
But let my sw eet bud in the cradle,. 
Bloom like a rose in the light. 
The Dahlia. 
BY S. C. W. 
That Dahlias may be grown from seed 
and flower the same season is an established 
fact; requiring no more special care than 
you would give to your early tomato or 
cabbage plants, with re-setting and uniform 
treatment in every particular. In most in* 
stances they are in bloom fully as early as. 
those grown from tubers. 
The Dahlia was named for Dahl, a Swed¬ 
ish botanist. They are a native of Mexico? 
and all the varieties now in cultivation in 
our flower gardens are derived from two 
species, 1> Variabilis and D Coccinea. They 
manifest a strong inclination to sport and 
new varieties are constantly being pro¬ 
duced. 
The former characteristics of a fine dahlia 
were fullness of flower, a perfect regularity 
in the shape of the floweret and the absence 
of an eye or disk; but the taste of some 
florists at least, has changed, for the single 
dahlia now seems to be the rage, the large 
yellow disk just the thing. 
The dahlia tuber is used by the Mexicans 
